Tag: Seattle Gilbert & Sullivan Society

I have been writing much about the Seattle Gilbert & Sullivan Society’s productions of the Gilbert and Sullivan opera. Here, I want to commend their 2007 production of the seldom-performed “Princess Ida.” With a weak libretto, dialogue in blank verse, and an uncomfortable anti-feminist approach, this work still has one of the most delightful scores in the G&S series.

Taking aim at women who, in Gilbert’s time, wanted equal rights to an advanced education, the plot concerns Prince Hilarion (Scott Rittenhouse) and his two friends Cyril (John Brookes) and Florian (Michael Giles) who break into Castle Adamant so that the Prince can claim his bride Princess Ida (Amanda Brown), while her father King Gama (Dave Ross) is held hostage by King Hildebrand (William J. Darkow), father to Hilarion. (Get it?)

Among the students of Adamant, all of whom are sworn to avoid males of any kind (including chessmen and roosters), are the philosophical Lady Blanche (Alyce Rogers), her daughter Melissa (Elizabeth Ford), and Florian’s sister Psyche (Cara Iverson). And let me not forget Ida’s three hulking brothers, who always appear in armor until they have to fight, at which time they strip it all off.

The songs are a joy. Gama has two patter songs, the first of which is really Gilbert’s opinion of himself; Psyche has the delightful tale of the ape who loved a lovely maiden; Ida has two operatic arias of great beauty; the three young men have two funny trios in a row; the three brothers have a wonderful parody of Handelian oratorio; and all of the ensembles are either amusing or beautiful. Lady Blanche’s only solo is among the worst Sullivan ever composed (look at the lyrics!), but I am glad it is kept for the sake of completeness.

The scenery is colorful and does a good 180-degree rotation in Act II. The costumes are as Gilbert wanted them: medieval, despite the presence of telescopes and cigars. There is some silly ad-libbing as the men change into women’s gowns, but that is the only addition to the text; and the three brothers do bump into each other a little too often. But in general, director Christine Goff shows respect for her author and composer, and conductor Bernard Kwiram gives her able support from the pit.

Gilbert and Sullivan’s final collaboration, “The Grand Duke,” was created in less than the best of circumstances. Earlier, Gilbert had taken Sullivan and their producer Richard D’Oyly Carte to court (!) over some financial matters that included the cost of a new carpet in their Savoy Theater. When the three were reunited with “Utopia, Ltd.,” it was clear that Sullivan was starting to repeat himself. In “The Grand Duke,” the plot is the most complicated and surely the silliest of any of their former efforts; and the score shows strong evidence that Sullivan was pretty burned out.

On the other hand, Gilbert seems to have “fallen” for the Hungarian soprano cast to play Julia and compromised his libretto by building up her part to more than it could hold. (He did the same with another soprano in “Utopia, Ltd,” and ultimately adopted her!)

I saw a production in New York that cut the text heavily and actually added a scene created by someone who thought Act II needed improvement. The songs are for the most part jolly but not particularly memorable. There is a beautiful ensemble in Act I that recalls the madrigal in “The Mikado” and offers a sort of oasis from the (I hate to say it) pedestrian tunes around it. Indeed, two or three of Sullivan’s worst efforts are found in this score; and I thought it is no wonder that it ran only 123 performances.

On repeated hearings, however, I am getting to like many of the numbers through familiarity. Also, I realize I am consciously or not comparing the score with the ones I grew up with, and this is not nice.

However, the intrepid Seattle Gilbert and Sullivan Society, true to its mission of producing and committing to video all of the Savoy operettas, did a very complete version of the original “Grand Duke” script and score in 1999. It makes, amazingly, a good case for the work. Granted that the dialogue does go on far too long in many spots, director Hal Ryder accepted the work as written–no current joking references–and managed to bring life into it with a cast that takes the silliness and spotty score and makes it sound good for the most part.

Set in the 1930s (an updating departure for the Seattle group), the plot unfolds showing a theatrical group who is plotting to overthrow the Grand Duke and take over the government. There is much ado about eating sausage rolls, statutory duels fought with a deck of cards, and one character finding himself engaged to four women at the same time. The overly long first act is divided into two acts—a very wise choice. The voices are a bit removed from the overhanging microphones, and a copy of the text would help during the musical numbers, as indeed with any operetta. Two of the songs in what is Act III in this production are not found in the standard text.

I had the pleasure of watching our local Moving Company perform a non-musical version I had prepared for them—and the Keene Sentinel compared it to a Monty Python sketch. Once again, Gilbert was there first! In fact, this DVD has no competition at all. Both Gilbert and Sullivan fans and theatre historians will surely want to own the Seattle “Grand Duke.” It can be purchased through their website at www.pattersong.org.

There was once a production of “The Marriage of Figaro” that takes place in Trump Tower. Although the concept of a Count having the “droit du seigneur” over any bride-to-be on his estate is ridiculous enough in 20th-century New York City, things are made worse when the Italian text is clearly heard to be “Siviglia” when the subtitles say “New Jersey.” At least, Da Ponte’s lyrics are not changed, although they are totally out of synch with what is seen on stage.

There was an African group at Keene Stage College performing a “Macbeth” set in Africa but the Scottish place names were maintained. Here I would have welcomed a change in proper nouns to maintain the illusion.

All of this is prologue to my column, which is more of an essay today than a review.

My readers must know by now how fond I am of the DVD releases from the Seattle Gilbert & Sullivan Society. On the other hand, I have always been testy about their changing the lyrics—or adding stanzas with new lyrics—to songs or throwing current references into the dialogue. The usual reason is that “Some of Gilbert’s references have little or no meaning to modern audiences.” This I can understand and counter with the idea of adding a glossary of such references to the playbill.

Why is “operetta” an excuse for changing dialogue and lyrics while grand opera (even when the staging is updated) is allowed to keep the words the librettist intended? Of course, Gilbert and Sullivan is not holy writ; but if a group chooses to do their works, they should give the audience what is advertised.

So here is a very good traditional production of “The Mikado,” the most popular operetta in the world, with a good cast, a good conductor (Bernard Kwiram), an inventive director (Christine Goff), and even a bit of ballet (ARC School of Ballet)—all this (to me) unable to ignore changing all of the references in Ko-Ko’s “Little list” song AND almost all of the references in the Mikado’s song.

Okay, every production changes the list song. But take for example a reference to “the senator from Idaho” that gets a tremendous laugh from the audience. This might have been hot stuff back in 2008, but the joke is totally lost to most viewers watching the DVD today. Worse, here and in the Mikado’s song, while the audience is roaring at this or that reference, the next line is being sung but not heard by any one.

Granted that no one, including modern British audiences, knows much if anything about “parliamentary trains”; but, as I say, an explanation in the program notes is all that is needed. And if Nanki-Poo’s comparing the Mikado with Lucius Junius Brutus is changed to Lord Valdemort, I can tolerate that reference despite its being an anachronism.

Of course, when the Mikado asks Ko-Ko where Nanki-Poo has gone, the original joke has the reply “Knightsbridge”—the location of the Japanese exhibit that inspired Gilbert to write this libretto. Today, directors substitute the name of some local place. Here, Oklahoma City gets a big laugh. And I can’t think why.

Setting this aside and the overuse of snapping fans open and shut, this is a well-conceived production with an excellent Ko-Ko (John Brookes). If Dave Ross is physically somewhat less than imposing as the Mikado, he sings well and is allowed to keep two of Gilbert’s original references in his “punishment fit the crime” number. Parker Albin is a pleasant Nanki-Poo, although he does look a bit like Li’l Abner, and Cara Iverson shows a good comic technique as Yum-Yum. She is ably assisted by the other two little maids, Carla Hilderbrand as Pitti-Sing and Annette Dennis as Peep-Bo.

I always miss a good basso profundo for Pooh-Bah, but Craig Cantley’s delivery is good enough, while William J. Darkow (looking much like Timothy Spall when he played the Mikado in the film “Topsy-Turvy”) gets some humor into his Pish-Tush. As she always does in her contralto roles, Alyce Rogers dominates the stage as Katisha.

I am hoping that future productions by this capable group will modify their changes to these works in the future.